


Harsh and Bittersweet

by Selkiessong



Series: Songs Re-sung [3]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: "Bend the Knee or Die", Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Angst and Tragedy, F/M, Minor canon divergence, Not for Dany fans, Not for Jon/Dany fans, Post S7, READ THE TAGS!!!, Stockholm Syndrome, the Wall being destroyed was a vision
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-10
Updated: 2018-05-24
Packaged: 2019-05-04 17:46:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14598360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Selkiessong/pseuds/Selkiessong
Summary: It's two years after the Battle for the Dawn and the demise of Night King, and the North is independent.For now.





	1. Close the Door

**Author's Note:**

> Anything you recognize is the intellectual property of G.R.R. Martin/HBO.  
> The Jon/Dany tag is there because they are in a romantic relationship. If you ship Jon/Dany though this may not be your story.

   _This_ , Jon thinks, feeling the steady rush of icy wind and the fiery heat of Rhaegal beneath him, _this is why_. Like this he can forget why Dany flies just ahead, where they are going. Surely Dany feels the same.

   “ _I will not have it!” Dany shouted pacing the room, alight with righteous fury. “My child, your treacherous relatives sought to harm my child and I will have their hides!”_

_“They were from Storm’s End, Your Grace.” Tyrion says dryly. “I doubt either my brother or my former wife would involve themselves in such a complex plot.”_

_“They’ve killed kings before!”_

_“Jaime isn’t known for planning. And Sansa was a dupe.”_

“Dany?” Surely, surely, she isn’t going to burn Winterfell with all its inhabitants inside. “You won’t burn them, will you?”

   “No,” his Queen, his lover, his captor says grimly, “but I will bring this to an end.  I will have the seven kingdoms as did my fathers before me.”

   He believes her, he’s seen that she can be merciful for himself, that she answers injustice with justice. In those first months after they had found Cersei dead wearing a choker of bruises, a minor Reach house had shot a scorpion at Drogon. Instead of killing them all as another would, she had limited the deaths to the men old enough to bear arms and sent the women and children to live amongst the Dothraki.

   _“I lived among the Dothraki,” she had said in rebuttal to the disapproving looks. “I learned to be strong among them. Are you saying your women are so weak?”_

   It will be his first visit home in two years, and he can’t help but feel angry towards Sansa and her stubbornness. This could have been entirely avoided if she had been willing to put aside her pride, if she had just accepted that Dany was owed the North after she had put her own urgent business to the side, just recognized that the dragonglass that spiked the Kinglsayer's hand as he killed the Night King was entirely due to Dany's largesse, if she had  _just ordered the Kingslayer to kill Cersei._  

_"No."_  

_"Why are you being so difficult Sansa," he was at the end of his patience. The Kingslayer had flat-out refused to kill the False Queen as a token of his goodwill- not to mention he showed no remorse whatsoever for stabbing Dany's father in the back-and Sansa was no better. "He's your personal sworn sword, just tell him you require him to bring you his sister's head."_  

_"No."_  

   "You may want to get them out," Dany says as he sees the Godswood of Winterfell below them, "I won't be long." 

   That makes him feel marginally better that Winterfell will not be a second Harenhall. Dany has both bemoaned his vulnerability to fire and been pleased that all would know which of them was the true blood of the dragon. 

   Winterfell must have seen them coming because Sansa is waiting for him in the courtyard with at least three minor lords whose names he can't remember at the moment, and the Kinglsayer one step behind her to the left.  

   "Sansa" he starts awkwardly, hoping she'll make this easy, but her gaze remains cold. "My queen is here to-" and he feels a flare of heat as Sansa eyes widen and she pushes past him uncaring with everyone behind and then he realizes that Dany has found a way to be strong and merciful. She hasn't touched Winterfell. She's only turned the Godswood into a forest of flames.  

   And then he sees her walking through the fires, untouched and unburnt like a goddess deigning to walk among mortals and wonders if now Sansa understands, if now she shares everyone's awestruck belief; but to his dismay her face is still set, jaw tight as she  _finally!_  drops to her knees and everyone follows her example. 

   "Lady Sansa," Dany says kindly, "am I to understand that you are bending the knee?" 

   "Yes, your Grace," Sansa says without a shred of emotion. "The North is yours." 

   “You may rise then.”

   There is the soft sound of layers of wool sliding over each other as Sansa stands to her full height followed more slowly by the Kingslayer who still moves with traces of his injuries from the Night King.

   "I realize that it must have been difficult for you," Dany continues more Mhysa than Kahleesi. “You were brought up to marry a great lord and bear him many sons, not to stand for yourself through no fault of your own. Nonetheless,” she continues, “I am in the habit of answering injustice with justice. The debt must be repaid.” And he sees the dark flash in her hand.

   Fire and Blood.


	2. Where I Have Never Gone Before

   “Hold on,” she mutters, searching around the bottom of the chest.

   “Sansa, we have less than an hour,” Jaime says urgently, “and that’s assuming that the dragons haven’t had a growth spurt.”

   Less than an hour. She’s hoped for more, for enough time to build an argument that it is to the benefit of the Iron Throne that the North retains some sovereignty.

   “I have it!” she exclaims surfacing with her prize, four yards of intricate black myrish lace, enough to feed a small family for more than a year and turns to see Jaime sitting on their bed.

   _“There isn’t anyone else I’d ask,” she stammers, grateful that the darkness hides her blush, “and you shouldn’t feel obligated, it’s only if you want, but a woman and a man- I want to know what all the fuss is about.”_

   “Sansa?”

_“I can’t, I don’t,” she gasps out, tossing her head, clenching her hands in the sheets. There is something, an ache, a flutter, a tightness, something pulsing between her legs where they are joined._

_“Relax,” Jaime soothes, his voice deep and husky, rocking against her. “Let go. It feels good, yes? Focus on that, on how it feels. The warmth, the movement,”_

_“What I,” she feels tiny jolts at his words, her hips moving without her say so, quivering out of her skin, her heart racing. “I,” she stutters as he caresses her just over the two of them causing her to rock helplessly, seeking, seeking, “I, oh!” she pants. “I ca-can’t, I, I, please, I, oh, oh, I c-, I, c-oh!, please, I’m , I’m,  I, I c-can’t’t, I can’t,  I,  ahh! I’m, I, AHH!I,  I- “_

   “It’s too early,” she says as he spreads his hand low between her hips. “Not for another moon at least.”

   _“I need to tell you something,” she starts hesitantly before guiding his hand to where her belly has swollen almost imperceptibly. Gilly says it’s normal for her to barely show nearly four moons gone with a first babe. His eyes are wide and she feels his hand shake under hers._

   “That doesn’t mean she doesn’t know,” Jaime retorts. He insists that it’s another girl. “Be good for your mother little one,” he finishes bending to kiss her through her layers.

 _"I was thinking, would you mind Eleni?"_  

 _"Eleni?"_  

 _"Eleni who built her house one more time than it was destroyed."_  

    “Hello, sweetling,” Jaime coos at Eleni who promptly holds her hands out in a silent demand to be held. “You know who I am, don’t you?” he adds as she happily babbles away, blissfully unaware of the anxiety that permeates the room.

   “She’ll always know you.” Watching Jaime with their daughter is both the sweetest and the saddest sight she knows. There’s a slight, barely noticeable hesitation every time Jaime sees her, his Snow daughter who cannot have his name. Daenerys had raged when someone finally told her that forcing a man covered in bone deep bruises to walk the length of the country in the depths of Winter would win her no love from anyone, when she realized that she would be leaving to King’s Landing without her prize.

   “Brienne, here.” It’s a good plan to leave Eleni with Sam, and Gilly, and Brienne. They’re far less likely to attract attention, just another thrown together little family. It’s good, Eleni will be safe, the lace will be enough to feed them for a year, there are at least two more fair haired babes the same age.

   _“I want her to be safe”_

   “You’re going to play with Little Sam now,” she manages to chirp at Eleni whose ears practically perk up. She adores Little Sam and follows him everywhere. “Ow,” she hisses as Jaime shifts Eleni towards her, holding them both accidently pressing up against her too sensitive breasts.

   “Should I kiss you better?”

   “After.” If there is anything after.

There is no true protection from dragonfire, no safety to be had, but there is still something reassuring about the presence of her lords and sworn-swords around her as Jon comes into view whether they are Northmen or fugitives from the West. She catches sight of Jaime's friend, Addam, eyeing a Wildling girls and smiles; bearded, and dressed in heavy furs he is virtually indistinguishable from men who have never set foot below the Neck and is considered quite the catch.  

   “Sansa,” Jon says awkwardly looking over her shoulder at Jaime.

   “ _He’s the Kingslayer, he’s a Lannister!”_

_“He pushed himself so hard to get here so we would not be blindsided by Cersei’s betrayal that he was in bed for days. If he wanted to betray us don’t you think he could have chosen an easier way to do so?”_

   “My-“

   She sees the orange glow and pushes past him. The Godswood, the Godswood is on fire, and his queen, she is walking through it unconcerned and reveling in the flames; and it’s clear that this is her doing, that she has done what no one since the Andals came spreading the Faith of the Seven has ever dreamed of, that hasn’t been done in Westeros by any faith Old or New since the two have coexisted. She can’t, it’s unheard of; but she makes the impossible happen, she’s reneged on a deal entered in good faith, she’s crucified one hundred and sixty-three slave owners without regard for guilt or innocence, she’s burnt men alive for refusing to kneel and there is no other way, no choice, and slowly Sansa sinks to her knees, feeling rather than hearing everyone follow her.

   “Lady Sansa,” Daenerys smiles, rich and sibilant, “am I to understand that you are bending the knee?”

   “Yes, your Grace,” she manages. What does this look like? What choice does she have? “The North is yours.”

   “You may rise then,” the Dragonqueen continues as thought she is granting an undeserved boon, as if she has not just ripped her heart out and ground it to dust. From where she kneels, Sansa can see the dark flash of dragonglass in Daenerys’s hand and as Jaime rises after her, he edges in front, placing himself between the two of them.

   “I realize that it must have been difficult for you," Daenerys continues, not paying anyone else a shred of attention. “You were brought up to marry a great lord and bear him many sons, not to stand for yourself through no fault of your own. Nonetheless, I am in the habit of answering injustice with justice. The debt must be repaid.”

   There are two dragons tearing the air with their shrieks behind her, but it is Daenerys’s eyes that terrify her.

   She’s mad. She’s utterly, utterly mad

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fact check:  
> 1\. Handmade lace WAS more valuable than gold.  
> 2\. At one point I was seriously considering midwifery as a career which is where I got all my OB information.
> 
> Any comments?


	3. Let Me Have a Moment

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For anyone who wants the full experience, I suggest listening to "Stay I Pray You" from Anastasia:The Musical, available on Youtube. 
> 
> Comments are welcome

   It’s always fire in his nightmares. Ever since he was sixteen and watched as Aerys burnt men alive. Fire licking up Rickard Stark’s armor. Smoke filling the throne room of the Red Keep, biting into his throat, watering his eyes and choking his lungs. Fire lighting Ned Stark black and red. Fire turning his men to ash. 

   _Burn them all, burn them in their homes, burn them in their beds. Burn them, burn them, burnthemburnthemburnthem_

   She’s her father, this Kahleesi or Queen or whatever she’s taken to calling herself. Blood of the Dragon.  Aerys was the shattered mirror, hated, the jagged Iron Throne. Daenerys is the beautiful image, adored, a tempered Valyrian blade. They are reflections of the other, like to like, blood to blood.

_Burnthemburnthemburnthem_

   “Lady Sansa,” he can hear the triumph in Daenery’s voice, see the black sheen of the dragonglass dagger held in her right hand, “am I to understand that you are bending the knee?”

   _I am the King! Bring me your father’s head, boy!_

   “Yes, your Grace.” He knows if he looks at Sansa’s face it will be utterly expressionless, smooth as sculpted ice. “The North is yours.”

   “ _Kingslayer. Your brother says you are not irredeemable, and I am inclined to give you a chnce to prove yourself. Bring me your sister’s head; and I may consider pardoning you.”_

   “You may rise then,” Aerys’ daughter says sweetly, and Sansa rises gracefully, any changes to her form more than adequately hidden by her heavy gown and kirtle.  Jaime rises after her, still slowed by old injuries and edges himself between them.

   “I realize that it must have been difficult for you," Daenerys continues. “You were brought up to marry a great lord and bear him many sons, not to stand for yourself through no fault of your own. Nonetheless, I am in the habit of answering injustice with justice. The debt must be repaid.”

   “Kingslayer.” He feels Sansa tense behind him and very gently pushes back with his right shoulder. He isn’t worth it, isn’t worth Sansa.

 “I found a Stormlander in my daughter’s room,” Daenerys says intently. “My Rhaeanna. You may be innocent of any of it, you may not. Still, you’re a dangerous man. Just by leaving you alive, I’ve opened myself to whispers. They say I am a mummer’s dragon, a pretender. A dragon does not mate with the beast of the field, does not compromise. “

   _Burn them all! Burnthemburnthemburnthemburnthemburn_

“This is necessary,” she concludes, eyes alight with righteousness, and he feels sharp pressure between his ribs and sways backwards, only just managing to stay on his feet. He feels Sansa move closer until he’s practically leaning on her, which he’d protest at, except he’s now perfectly positioned to shield her.

   “Sansa.” Oh joy, it’s Sansa’s dolt brother. Her useless, enthralled, dolt brother. “You understand, don’t you?” he asks looking like a kicked puppy who just wants to come inside. “She’s a good mother, she wants to protect her children, all of them. She’s not her father, the Mad King would have burnt everyone alive. You put her in an impossible situation when you gave the Kingslayer shelter without any show of remorse on his part. Even his brother couldn’t think of anything else, and he’s the best of the Lannisters.”

   _“I always knew you were the stupidest Lannister.”_

   He lets whatever else is said wash over him like meaningless chatter, a mad sense of pride keeping him standing. Pride and fear. Everyone else is behind Sansa or to her side, he’s her only protection from the front.

   _I will shield you. I will keep your counsel. I will give my life for yours._

   “They’re gone,” Sansa exhales and he feels the battle fever that had kept him standing evaporate, “Jaime!”

   “I’m sorry,” he forces out between his teeth. He should have offered himself up to the Dragonqueen from the beginning, he should have known that he ruins whatever he touches, he should have, he should have…

   “Shh, Jaime,” Sansa murmurs, rubbing her hand on his arm. “You did everything right, my sworn sword, my knight. I could not have asked for a finer one were I a queen. Jaime, may I ask your friend for help? I want to get you inside.”

   “Yes.” Breathing hurts. Everything hurts; his chest, his side, his back, but breathing most of all.

   “Ser Addam, could I trouble you to assist me, please?” His courteous Sansa.

   “You’ve done it now, my lord,” Addam says dryly, lightly pressing his hand against the wound. “Take a deep breath.”

   That’s bad idea. Breathing _hurts._

   “Deep breath. Now.”

   Sharp pain flares in his chest and side as he complies, a sensation of dragging Addam’s hand inwards, and he can’t keep back a cry as his vision fades to gray.

   “ _Jaime!_ ”

   Voices.

   “That bitch, that fucking bitch!” Addam.

   “What’s to be done?” Sam.

   “What’s to be done?” Addam growls. “There isn’t anything to do! She knew what she was doing, that good-hearted, oh so merciful queen,” he sneers, “she stabbed deep enough to kill, but not so deep as to give a quick death. It will take an hour or so if he’s _lucky.”_

Sansa. Sansa and their babes.

   “Addam,” he croaks, “Addam.”

   “You heard.” It’s a statement.

   “You called me your liege.”

   “I did.”

   “I must... ask you...” he breaks off. Gods, it hurts to breathe.

   “You want me protect Lady Sansa and your child. She’s a clever one, your lady. When her brother asked about the rumors of a Lannister child, she said he would find no Lannister child here.”

   “Children.”

    “Children,” Addam’s echoes, eyes widening as he does the sums. Unnecessary. Two years or so is nothing out of the common run.  “You two don’t waste time.”

   “Sansa, tell her,”

   “Tell me yourself.” Sansa appears in the doorway, the Maiden and the Mother in one. “Say hello to your father, Eleni.”

   _“Come Jaime,” Sansa smiles, “come meet your daughter.”_

_His daughter. He’s never held a child of his and he’s terrified. What if Cersei was right not to let him near her children? What if there was something missing in him, something that made him unable to be a father? But Sansa doesn’t seem to have any qualms and shows him how to hold a newborn. His daughter. Their daughter._

   “Eleni.” She’s in between sleep and wakefulness, nosing into Sansa like a kitten. His babe. The only one he’s held, the only one he’s been allowed to love. Sansa’s greatest gift to him. “Hello sweetling.”

   He wants desperately to hold her, his little girl, but she’s far too heavy, and he resigns himself to just being able to run a finger along her soft skin when Sansa holds her up, blinking, for a kiss. “I love you sweetling.”

   “She knows,” Sansa whispers. “Samwell, would you take her back to Gilly? And Ser Addam, could you perhaps give us some time?”

   “Of course, Lady Sansa but first,” Addam drops to his knees and offers her his sword, “Lady Stark, if you would have me I would shield you, I would keep your council, I would protect you with my life. My loyalty would be yours from this day to my last day. I swear it by the Old Gods and the New.”

   “I will ask no service of you that might bring you into dishonor,” Sansa replies dignified as a queen. “You will always have a place at my hearth, and meat and mead at my table. I will keep faith with you as you keep it with me. I swear it by the Old Gods and the New. Rise, Ser Addam.”

   When they are left alone, Sansa looks at him and begins removing her clothes until she is only in her shift and arranges herself behind him so he leans on her instead of pillows.

   “Joy,” he rasps. “Name her Joy. It’s what I want for you.”

   “Joy it is.”

   “You gave me joy, sweetheart,” he whispers. Jaime Lannister unable to speak. “More than I’d ever known...so much love,”

   “Oh Jaime,” Sansa sighs, “you’re so easy to love.”

   She’s warm. He’s cold, but Sansa is warm at his back, and she cradles him. He can feel her heart beating, the soft touch of her lips by his face.

   “Stay with me…” 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ?

**Author's Note:**

> Anyone want more?


End file.
